Still does the Goddess, in her form divine, O'er each grim idol eminently shine; Array'd in lafting majefty, is known
Thro' every clime and age, unchang'd, and One. But how explor'd?-Take reafon for your guide, Difcard felf-love; fet paffion's glass afide; Nor view her with the jaundic'd eye of pride. Yet judge not rafhly from a partial view Of what is wrong or right, or false or true ; Objects too near deceive th' obferver's eye; Examine those which at a distance lie. Scarce is the ftructure's harmony defcry'd 'Midft the tall column's, and gay order's pride; But tow'rds the destin'd point your fight remove, And this fhall leffen ftill, and that improve, New beauties gain upon your wond'ring eyes, And the fair Whole in juft proportion rife. Thus Honour's true proportions best are seen, Where the due length of ages lies between:
This feparates pride from greatnefs, fhow from worth, Detects falfe beauty, real grace calls forth;
Verse 29. If we would form an impartial judgment of what is truly honourable, we must abstract all confiderations which gard ourselves.
Verse 32. Not only fo, but we must remove ourselves to a prom per diftance from the object we examine, left fume par: fhould predominate in our eye, and occafion a false judgment of the whole
Points out what merits praise, what merits blame, Sinks in difgrace, or rifes into fame.
Come then, from past examples let us prove What raises hate, contempt, efteem, or love.
Can greatness give true Honour? can expence? Can luxury? or can magnificence?
Wild is the purpofe, and the fruitless aim, Like a vile proftitute to bribe fair Fame; Perfuafive fplendor vainly tempts her ear, And e'en all-potent gold is baffled here. Ye pyramids, that once could threat, the fkies, Afpiring tow'rs, and cloud-wrapt wonders, rife! To latest age your founder's pride proclaim; Record the tyrant's greatnefs; tell his name;
No more :-The treacherous brick and mould'ring ftone 60 Are funk in duft, the boafting title gone:
Pride's trophies fwept by Time's devouring flood,
Th' infcription want, to tell where once they stood. But could they rival Nature, Time defy,
Yet what record but Vice or Vanity?
His the true glory, tho' his name unknown,
Who taught the arch to fwell; to rise, the stone;
Verfe 48. Therefore the furest method is, to prove by past examples what commands our love and efleem.
Verfe 50, &c. Expence and grandeur cannot give true Honour Their most fplendid monuments vanish; and even should they last for ever, could not beftow real glory, if only the records of Pride, Tyranny, and Vice.
Not his, whofe wild command fair art obey'd, Whilft folly dictated, or paffion fway'd.
No: fpite of greatness, pride and vice are feen, Shameful in pomp, confpicuously mean.
In vain, O St-d-y, thy proud forests spread; In vain each gilded turret rears its head; In vain thy Lord commands the streams to fall, Extends the view, and spreads the smooth canal,
While guilt's black train each confcious walk invade, And cries of orphans haunt him in the fhade. Mistaken man! by crimes to hope for fame! Thy imag'd glory leads to real fhame: Is villainy felf-hated? thus to raise Upbraiding monuments of foul disgrace ? Succeeding times, and ages yet unborn,
Shall view the guilty scenes with honest scorn; Difdain each beauty thy proud folly plann'd, And curfe the labours of oppreffion's hand.
Next, view the Heroe in th' embattled field: True Honour's fruit can conqueft's laurel yield?
Him only honour'd, only lov'd we find, Who fights not to deftroy, but fave mankind; PELIDES' fury may our wonder move, But god-like HECTOR is the man we love.
Verfe 72, &c. Much less if purchas'd by Oppreffion and
Verfe 86, &c. True Honour is not to be reaped from unjust Conqueft: It is not Victory, but a juft Caufe that can engage our Efteem.
See WILLIAM's fword a tyrant's pride difarm: See LEWIS trembling under MARLB’Ro's arm : Say, which to human kind are friends or foes; And who detests not These, and loves not Thofe? Conqueft unjust can ne'er command applause; 'Tis not the vict❜ry charms you, but the cause: Not Cæfar's felf can feign the patriot's part, Nor his falfe virtues hide his poison'd heart But round thy brows the willing laurels twine, Whose voice bwak'd freedom in the favage mine! Yes truly glorious, only great is he,
Who conquers, or who bleeds for liberty. "Heroes are much the fame, the point's agreed, "From Macedonia's mad-man to the Swede. Like baleful comets flaming in the skies, At deftin'd times th' appointed fcourges rife ; Awhile in ftreaming luftre fweep along, And fix in wonder's gaze th' admiring throng; But reason's eye detects the spurious ray, And the falfe blaze of glory dies away.
Now all th' aërial cells of wit explore; The mazy rounds of science travel o'er ; Search all the deep recesses of the mind, And fee, if there true Honour fits enshrin'd.
IMITATIONS.
Verfe 8. Du premier des Cæfars on vante les exploits; Mais dans quel tribunal, jugé fuivant les loix, Eut il pú difculper fon injufte manie ?
Alas, nor wit nor science this can boast, Oft' dash'd with error, oft' in caprice loft! Tranfient as bright the short-liv'd bubbles fly! And modes of wit, and modes of fcience die. See Rab'lais once the idol of the age; Yet now neglected lies the fmutted page!
Of once renown'd Des Cartes how low the fall,- His glory with his whirlpools vanish all! See folly, wit-and weakness, wisdom stain,--- And Villars witty-Bacon wife in vain! Oft' vice corrupts what fenfe and parts refine, And clouds the fplendor of the brightest line, Sullies what Congreve, and what Dryden writ,- This, fashion's flave; as that, the flave of wit. In vain fair Genius bids the laurel shoot, The deadly worm thus eating at the root: Corroded thus, the greeneft wreaths decay, And all the poet's honours fall away; Quick as autumnal leaves, the laurels fade,
And drop on Rochester's and Otway's head.
Verfe 116. Neither is true glory to be obtain'd by wit or
Science: They are chimerical: Sometimes attended with folly, and weakness; often fain'd with vice, and fo render their poffeffors mifchievous and infamous.
IMITATIONS. Verse 126. Je ne puis eflimer ces dangereux auteurs, Qui de l'honneur en vers infames deferteurs, Trabiffant la vertu fur un papier coupable, Aux yeux de leur lecteurs rendent le vice amiable.- En vain l'efprit eft plein d'un noble vigueur;
Le vers fe fent toujours des baffeffes du cœur. BOILEAU Art, Peet. Ch. 4.
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